


Hands

by devils_trap



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M, MUSICAL MCCOY, annoying use of the five times fic trope, love of mccoy's hands?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devils_trap/pseuds/devils_trap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is captivated by McCoy's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [手](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672226) by [Ylemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ylemon/pseuds/Ylemon)



1\. The first time he noticed them, the Doctor was nearly elbow deep in the crimson blood of one Ensign Toldlki. The away mission had had a less than desirable outcome, with two fatalities, one grave injury and a rather gruesome break in the Captain's left femur. What was said to have been a peaceful planet turned out to be a planet overripe with civil unrest. It burst at its seams as they were beamed down. Their weapons had been primitive and their frustration so thick it was tangible. The fight was long and fierce, but eventually they were able to reestablish democracy in the land and quell any uprising in the shadows.

Spock didn't know the two lost crewman beyond their names--Ensigns Tanya Leftwind and Michael Bratensol--but he knew Ensign Toldlki from the few brief encounters the two had had in the labs both on Earth and on the Enterprise. A simple, quiet man, one who worked with fever and complied with the orders he was given; honorable and exemplary. Spock might even venture to call them acquaintances.

Currently Toldlki nor his blood had his attention, though a small part of Spock told him they should. It was the Doctor's hands that captivated him, the long digits working skillfully to stop the constant blood flow. The gloves covering tanned, well-used hands were stained with red, ceaselessly moving in and out of the Ensign's chest cavity until, with a long, shaky sigh, the beeping of a distant machine that Spock hadn't registered came to rest at a soft beat.

Nurse Chapel tended to the Ensign as the Doctor moved to remove his gloves, discarding them with practiced ease into a bin at his side. The skin of his palms glistened in the light. He took a second to wring his hands, crackling each knuckle individually and rolling his shoulders before he headed off towards the Captain, mumbling under his breath before he had even arrived at his bedside.

It was then that Spock realized he had been staring at the Doctor's hands. 

And thinking about running his hands along the Doctor's own.

He wrote it off with a tug of his shirt and headed in the direction of the Captain.

-

2\. Together, he and the Captain played three dimensional chess three to four times aweek. The Doctor often accompanied them to speak with the Captain, though more often than not the Doctor and himself would engage in a heated debate before the session was over.

One such session, after a rather grueling day, the Doctor sat at the Captain's side with a bourbon in hand, and watched the game closely as the pair played. His index finger tapped idly against the cool glass as his eyes shifted from pawn to pawn, silently running moves through his head. The Doctor had never expressed a desire to play despite being invited to by the Captain and Spock on numerous occasions, but he sometimes got like this; stuck beside the Captain in a state of quiet calculation, running his own moves through his head like a computer, correcting the Captain's moves with his silent glare. If Spock were to comment on how logically he seemed to be breaking the moves down, the other would bristle and bark an insult back at him that, as the Doctor would say, had more bark than it did bite.

His fingers sped up their tapping as the Captain moved a pawn, falling into a rather inconvenient position set up by Spock. Quietly his clicked his tongue before taking a swallow of his drink. The Captain took it as a sign of Spock's impending loss--Bones just had to be on his side, what else were best friends for?--but Spock knew that the Doctor had seen the Captain's error.

The Captain, indeed, lost their match. He cursed under his breath despite the grin on his face, and reached over and patted Spock on the shoulder in congratulations. 

"Good game, Spock," he said, eyes dancing with the excitement. Then he turned to the Doctor and said, "We'll get him next time."

The Doctor snorted and finished his drink. His hands met on his chest as he leaned back in his chair, fingers lacing themselves together around the glass, making large knuckles more pronounced. " _You'll_ get him next time. I think I would have one this time."

"What do you mean?" The Captain furrowed his brow and searched the board, trying to remember any potential errors on his part.

The fingers separated. One hand fell to his side after it sat the glass safely down, while the other was run through the Doctor's thick auburn hair, lightly pulling on it before releasing. He gave a soft, easy smile, one only coaxed out by liquor and the Captain's company (and Spock's silence) and shrugged his shoulders. "You messed up a few moves ago. Spock always leaves those traps for ya' and you almost always fall for 'em."

Fascinating. Though the Captain seldom picked up the strategies Spock used, it seemed the Doctor did so with practiced ease. Spock would endeavor to invite the Doctor to play the next time they met up. Hopefully, those fingers wouldn't captivate him the whole time. He was having a little trouble pulling himself away at the moment...

"Spock? Spock! Did you even hear me?" The Captain was snapping his fingers, brow still furrowed. "Earth--or, well, Enterprise--to Spock! Do you trap me every game?"

"Pointy-eared bastard is a snake and a damn good chess player, I'll give 'im that. You're just in a rush to win, Jim," McCoy chuckled.

"Doctor, I must amend your statement and stress once more the fact that my parents were married several years before my conception. Regardless: Captain, the statement is true. I do compose traps to ensnare you in," Spock replied, flushing at the tips of his ears at being caught. Maybe he would refrain from asking the Doctor to play. The man didn't exactly need anything to hold over him, especially an illogical "crush" with the man's hands.

Though, the thought of those fingers wrapped around a pawn was rather tempting.

-

3\. It wasn't a conscious thing the Doctor did. Spock watched him fidget on the bridge,minute quivers of long digits that thirsted for something to occupy them, showcasing his nerves even if his face remained at its usually slightly disgruntled state. The Doctor would clasp his hands together behind his back, wringing them lightly, and then move them to his front, crossing them roughly against his chest to fiddle with the hems of his shirt. It was a curious little tick that seemed akin to Restless Leg Syndrome, most likely triggered by the expanse of unfiltered space shown throughout the bridge.

His trips to the bridge were frequent when he had the time, but even now, seven months into their deployment, the Doctor was still having trouble with his aviophobia. He would try his hardest to cope, staring at transmissions as they came but blanching before they cleared the screen ahead.  Spock found it illogical that the man would head into space with a fear as acute as his, but he found the Doctor to be illogical and disconcerting in many ways.

His hands, for instance, were worrisome to Spock. They were human hands, tinged pink on the palms and a soft brown on the top, graceful but no more than human hands. And, yet, Spock found himself staring, taking in each thick knuckle and the length of the digits above them. The Doctor's hands were broad and large, like a paw or a large glove from Terran baseball games, the ones shown in the holovids. He longed to touch them, to rub his fingers along each and every knuckle and the soft webbing between each finger; to hold the hands in private and press small kisses to the creases in each palm.

"Spock? Are you feeling okay? You've been zoning out on me a lot." The Captain looked at him from his seat at the center of the bridge, striking blue eyes bright and attentive.

"Affirmative, Captain. I am well."

"You sure? 'Cause Bones could give you a once-over if you needed it."

Spock felt his heart beat heavily for a moment and a warmth to crash through his stomach like a wave on the beaches of California. "That will not be necessary. I assure you, I am well. I was merely enraptured by the readings before me." 

"Mind filling the captain in?"

-

4\. The Captain, their usual dinner partner, was in a small conference and was to be leftundisturbed until the meeting reached completion. Undeterred, Spock collected his meal and took his perch at their usual table. The Doctor followed only moments after he had started in on his salad. Spock watched as the other man retrieved his own order and looked for their friend. He frowned slightly at the empty seat that was usually filled by their loud, effervescent captain, but made his way to the table nonetheless.

"I thought the meetin' was supposed to be over by now?" he asked, sitting opposite Spock.

Spock took a moment to observe the meal the Doctor had chosen (green beans, a baked potato, a small piece of chicken and a bottle of water, a rather healthy meal that Spock commended him for--a meal the Captain would have cringed over but eaten under fear of a hypospray) before replying, "Negative. It isn't expected to end until after 1800."

The Doctor made a small sound in the back of his throat before starting in on his meal. He took a swig of his drink first, long fingers wrapped around the base of the bottle. Then he began with his vegetables, a fork clasped within his right hand, nailbeds pink in the light. Spock wondered if they were as warm as he imagined them--warmer than an average human's, but not as warm as his own--and if the touches they gave were rough or smooth.

"Is there--something--on my hands?" The Doctor's voice snapped him out of his musings, effectively grounding him to the barely touched plate before him. 

"Negative, Doctor," he replied quietly, and resumed eating. Maybe he should begin meditating more. This staring was beginning to become unsettling, especially when he came to realize that he didn't much mind the illogicality of his actions.

"Leonard. My name's Leonard, not Doctor. I'm off duty, please use it." The Doctor--Leonard--scoffed and turned over a bean on his plate. "Maybe I should check you out. You've been a little here and there recently." 

"I assure you, Doc--Leonard, that I am well. There is no need to 'check me out', as you say. I would be, however, amendable to a game of chess later, as the Captain won't be joining us."

"...Sure, Spock."

-

  
5\. It was the first Shore Leave to Earth in months. The Captain was nearly bouncing withexcitement, eager to get his hands on actual liquor; eager to roam and explore a land he'd been away from for over a year. 

The Doctor, on the other hand, was...'moping' is the correct term. 

His ex-wife was keeping their daughter so they could visit her dying mother. The Doctor would get her for the last week of Shore Leave, although he had been expecting a whole three weeks with her. He wasn't angry, per say, but disappointed in the circumstances. It wasn't as if his ex-wife had told her mother to become ill, though the Captain mumbled about sabotage.

He drank the first day of Shore Leave, not leaving the Enterprise even when the Captain begged.

On the second day, after a shower and a good lunch, the Captain had managed the drag him off the ship (almost literally) for a little "fresh air"--although Spock contested that the air aboard the Enterprise was much cleaner than any air within miles of their docking site. The Doctor perked up immediately, standing a little straighter, as if reaching for the sun. 

The Captain rambled on about dinner plans, which involved a surprise later that night, but Spock was busy watching the Doct--Leonard taking Earth in. He touched the sun-warmed bricks of nearby buildings with a soft, secret smile on his face. His eyes were slightly lidded and the breeze played with his hair, as well as the undone buttons of his dress shirt. He didn't seem to hear anything the Captain was saying, but for that matter, neither did Spock.

 So when they ended up in a small restaurant with a sign out front saying "KARAOKE NIGHT", neither Spock nor Leonard knew what hit them.

 The Captain ordered their meals--a salad for Spock, a burger for himself and a chicken sandwich for Leonard--and drinks. Spock protested until the drink, curiously named Mudslide though they assured him there were no rocks or mud involved, was placed before him.

 "It's mostly liquor, not much chocolate. It'll probably just give you a buzz," Leonard supplied, lightly nursing his own drink as Jim took large swigs from his beer.

The Mudslide was, in fact, delicious and did, indeed, leave him buzzed. The dim lights of the restaurant cast a soft glow on everything, and seemed to bring out a rare smile in Leonard. Spock noticed his teeth at that instant--straight and white, pointed at the incisors--as well as his hands, and had a small, internal debate as to which was more appealing.

The hands, always the hands, won.

 Spock was observing them once more over his second drink when Jim said over the table to Leonard, "Get up and sing us a song!"

 Leonard had made his way through three drinks and was currently on his forth, and the loose smile he gave clearly showed that. "Really, you want me t'sing?" His drawl was fascinatingly thicker than usual. Spock found it most agreeable.

 "You sing, Doctor?" Spock asked, idly twirling the straw in his drink.

 "I do,  _Spock_ ," he replied. "I just dunno if I wanna...y'know...bust it out in front of these good people."

 "Not sure if they could take hearing angels sing?" Jim laughed. He swatted at Leonard as he began rebutting. "No, really, Bones. Get up and sing for us! Please, I could really use something decent to listen to. And I haven't heard you sing in  _months_."

 "Indeed. If you are as pleasant to the ears as the Captain--"

"--the name's Jim!--"

"--as Jim suggests, then I would be amendable to you singing something for us."

"Oh, well, if you put it that way." Leonard scowled jokingly but stood up. He finished the rest of his drink, fingers sparkling with condensation, before turning towards the front of the restaurant and slipping out of Spock's range of sight.

He was gone for a few moment and Spock was worried that he had slipped and hurt himself when Jim touched his sleeve and pointed towards the stage.

"So, um...I'm a little drunk." The crowd laughed and Leonard smiled a little. He was situated in a soft spotlight with a guitar hanging from his shoulder, looking less and less awkward as the seconds ticked by. "But, uh, I've been asked to play a song for y'all good people, so I'm gonna. It's an old song, from the 20th century, but it's one of my favorites. Hope y'all'll enjoy it. It's called 'Simple Man', by a band named Lynyrd Skynyrd. If y'all like this, y'should look it up."

After a moment's silence, Leonard situated himself behind the guitar and began playing, strumming rather fluidly. His fingers hovered over the cords as he played, growing more and more comfortable with every strum. Spock was captivated by the movement, the fluidity and the confidence radiating off the gestures and the way it quietly told of Leonard's youth in a sleepy town in Georgia.

And then he opened his mouth.

Leonard's voice was thick and deep, melodious and smooth like thick maple syrup. The words he sang were unfamiliar, but the way he played and the words that accompanied the notes were pleasant. A song he wouldn't be adverse to hearing another time, especially if Leonard played for him.

_"Well mama told me, when I was young, / and sit beside me, my only son / and listen closely to what I say. / And if you do this, it'll help you some sunny day. / Ah, yeah..."_

The guitar was a touch more complicated in this area, but Leonard transitioned into it flawlessly. He leaned forward as he played, hair falling in his eyes. The smile on his face filled Spock with an unidentifiable warmth.

_"Oh, take your time, don't live too fast. / Troubles will come, and they will pass. / You'll find a woman, yeah, and you'll find love. / And don't forget, son, there is someone up above."_

The crescendo he built up to was powerful. Leonard's voice became even thicker and more melodious than before, even with his volume being nearly to that of shouting. His collarbone peeked out from his shirt, sweat collecting there. His fingers kept the pace as he sang.

_"And be simple kind of man. / Oh, be something you love and understand. / Baby, be a simple kind of man. / Oh, won't you do this for me son, if you can?"_

A pause in the singing briefly, fingers working aptly over the cords.

_"Forget your lust for the rich man's gold, / all that you need is in your soul. / And you can do this, oh baby, if you try. / All that I want for you my son, is to be satisfied."_

A deep intake of air. Leonard licks his lips slowly, sensually, and leans away from the microphone as he begins belting the words.

_"And be a simple kind of man. / Oh, be something you love and understand. / Baby, be a simple kind of man. / Oh, won't you do this for me son, if you can? / Oh, yes I will..."_

He had seen Leonard's fingers move this quickly before, in Sick Bay, but he had never been so moved by them. They were sleek across the tight silver strings, moving up and down the neck of the instrument like they had been there for their entire existence.

_"Oh, don't you worry, you'll find yourself. / Follow your heart, and nothing else. /  And you can do this, oh babe, if you try. / All that I want for you my son, is to be satisfied."_

There was a cheer from the front of the room, distinctly female and most likely intoxicated. Spock barely bit down the urge to go confront the nameless woman. She was not allow to  _catcall_ to Leonard. Not with Spock within hearing range.

_"And be a simple kind of man. / Oh, be something you love and understand. / Baby, be a simple kind of man. / Oh, won't you do this for me son if you can? / Baby, be a simple--be a simple man. / Oh, be something you love and understand. / Baby, be a simple kind of man..."_

Leonard's voice slowly began to fade out and, sadly, the guitar playing ceased. His hands came to a stop, one on the neck of the guitar and one on the Doctor's own neck. A sheepish smile was playing across his face as he waited for the verdict.

When the roar of applause deafened him, Leonard looked away and blushed, his teeth gleaming in the light. He set the guitar down in a stand that Spock hadn't seen before and made his way off stage, brushing passed the few human women waiting for him.

Eventually, he returned back to their table, that loose, charming smile on his face. He had barely had time to get comfortable before there were several beers set before him and a waitress grinning profusely at him. She told him how well he had played and that these had all been paid for for him before winking at him and walking away, swinging her hips too much for Spock's tastes. He ignored the other wave of possessiveness and the urge to pull her by her ponytail that washed over him and finished his drink.

"Bones, that was  _awesome_! Remind me why you don't have a guitar on the Enterprise?" Jim was grinning and slapping the table, clearly intoxicated and awed by the Doctor's performance. He stole a beer with a smile and began nursing it. "I'm buying you one before we leave. That's final."

Leonard mumbled beneath his breath ("aw, shucks", Spock had thought he said) and blushed into his beer. "You were probably too drunk to hear how awful I was."

"Doctor--"

"--Leonard--"

"Leonard, I must agree with the Captain--"

"--Jim!--"

"--Jim. We should procure a guitar for usage on the ship. I believe it would boost morale." 

Leonard looked at him then and licked his lips softly. "Y'all really think I was good?"

"Good? Awesome! You're gonna get laid tonight, Bones. No doubt about it. Those girls in the front are practically strangling each other with their panties to be the one to come over and talk to you." Jim wriggled his eyebrows; Spock scowled.

Leonard just laughed nervously and began fiddling with the wrapping of his beer. "They probably saw you and want to see my hot friend."

"Aw, you think I'm hot? Thanks, Bones. Actually, I might go knock 'em dead now. See you guys at the hotel, yeah? Here's our key." And with that, Jim left them alone.

Leonard finished the beer he had started before standing up, swaying a little on his feet. "C'mon, Spock. Let's go get some sleep. One of us is going to have to be functional enough in the morning to ignore him when he pukes." He patted Spock on the shoulder and unconsciously Spock leaned into the contact.

They walked side-by-side on their way back to the hotel, not saying anything but speaking volumes. And if Spock's hands brushed Leonard's and if Leonard kept his hand on Spock's shoulder longer than strictly necessary when he steadied him, well, then they didn't talk about it.

-

+1 Shore Leave had been a relaxing experience. He would even allow Jim to call it "fun",although Vulcans had no such use of the word.

The Doctor's ex-wife had returned from her trip a week early and gave over Joanna upon their arrival. Her mother had recovered and insisted that Joanna be able to see her father, and Jocelyn agreed. Leonard went to lunch with his ex-wife and daughter and came back with an armful of one Joanna McCoy, a long-legged five-year-old  with one front tooth, two thick chocolate brown braids, a quick tongue and a soft Southern accent. He laid her down for a nap in the bed he had previously occupied that night and began making arrangements for a room beside Spock and the Captain's for Joanna and himself.

Spock did not let him know that this disappointed him. He had decided soon after the incident at the restaurant that he wanted to begin courting Leonard, albeit he knew not how. This seemed to be a roadblock.

It turns out, Joanna was more help than she was trouble. She was pleasant to be around and pacific for a young child. Her father's intelligence had rubbed off on her, as had his always moving mind. She calmed arguments between the First Officer and the Chief Medical Officer, as well as got them talking on a civil level. She even helped Spock make pastries, which Leonard and Jim fawned over.

Close to the end of their trip, Spock ended up taking her out on a little excursion while Leonard napped one afternoon.

"Do you like my daddy? Like... _like like_  my daddy?" she asked as they left the entrance of the hotel. It was raining, so she was huddled against Spock's leg. Her rainboots squeaked as she walked. "I think he likes  _you_. He's just a hard head. Like...like that dinosaur...with the plated head!"

"Would you keep confidence for me?" he asked, bracing the umbrella against a gust of wind.

"A  _what_?" she asked.

"A secret."

"Of course, Spock!"

"I do, indeed, find the company of your father to be pleasant."

"Good. Are we going to get something nice for him today? He'll positively melt if you get him a gift. Daddy's like a teddy bear! Have you ever heard him sing?"

"Indeed. That is the nature of our excursion. I am going to purchase a guitar."

"He's going to be eating out of your hand."

Spock hid his shiver. He sure hoped so.

Joanna proved to be most helpful on all fronts.

When Shore Leave ended, Leonard reluctantly let his daughter go with a large stuffed bear and the promise of more frequent calls home. They said their goodbyes and were beamed back to the Enterprise. Two hours later, they set off for their next mission.

Spock waited until the following day to bring the Doctor the fruits of their excursion. He buzzed at the door of the CMO's quarters and waited with his hands, and gifts, behind his back.

Leonard opened the door moments later, still dressed in his uniform. He ran a hand through his hair, quirked and eyebrow and said, "Y'need somethin', Spock?"

"Actually, Doctor, I have something to give you. May I come in?" Spock nodded his head as Leonard walked into his quarters, and waited for the soft hiss of the door before he began speaking again. "While on Shore Leave, your daughter and I went out and purchased a few gifts for you. I hope you will find them agreeable. She assured me you would like them."

And with that, Spock produced a tan guitar with a bright blue bow wrapped around the neck, an old honest-to-god book of songs and a box of picks. 

Leonard stared at them for a few seconds, taking in each gift. When he finally spoke, his eyes were twinkling and the smile adorning his face was the widest Spock had ever seen.

It was most agreeable, and birthed another fluttering in Spock's stomach.

"You and my little girl?  _You and my little girl?_ When did you find the time to do  _this_?" He took the guitar and the book and sat down on the small couch.

Spock sat the picks down and took his place at Leonard's side. "You were sleeping. She was--bored, the word is--, the Captain was indisposed and I needed to...go out. Do you like them?"

A small song was played after the bow was tenderly removed. The song was soft and short, akin to one a parent would play to a child--or maybe one a lover to their beloved. Spock shifted a little, the warmth crashing over him again.

"They're...they're great. Thank you, Spock. Really." Leonard sat the guitar across his legs and turned to face Spock. "I know y'said you thought it was a good idea to buy one...but I didn't think you'd  _do_ it. Thank you, Spock."

"I believe the appropriate response is: it is my pleasure." 

Leonard impulsively reached out for his hands and clasped them between his own, briefly studying the Vulcan's pale hands against his tanned own. 

Spock noted the softness of the Doctor's palm and the course, yet pleasant feel to the tips of his fingers. 

"Doctor--"

"--Leonard--"

"-- _Leonard_ , would you be adverse to...joining me for dinner tonight?"

Leonard looked up from Spock's hands--Spock could hear his thoughts, soft whispers of  _warm, gentle, strong, yes_ through the connection of their hands--and nodded. "That would be great, Spock. You--this is weird as all get out, but...you have beautiful hands. Long fingers, graceful, thin, probably steady under the most intense conditions...surgeon's hands." Spock felt a flash of  _pride_  and the word _home_  through the bond at the mention of Leonard's profession. "...You ever heard of a piano?" he asked, turning the hands over once more, touching the flesh together experimentally.

"Earth instrument, yes. Why do you ask?"

Leonard turned their hands over. "Next Shore Leave to Earth...we should find one and buy a keyboard. My mama showed me how to play when I was a boy, said every young man should have music in their soul, and I think you'd be great at it."

Spock allowed a small smile as he extended two fingers, which Leonard gently met. "I would quite enjoy that," he replied, the last word accented with a minute shudder as Leonard moved his fingers up and down. "Maybe you would agree to take a lesson or two of the Vulcan lute?"

Leonard nodded profusely and ran his fingers against Spock's again, noting the quiver the man gave. "We can, uh...boost morale together." Leonard grinned and moved forward, pressing his lips to Spock's own.

"Indeed."

**Author's Note:**

> Another from my [LJ](http://hierro-y-sal.livejournal.com/4013.html)!


End file.
